


The Fight

by Krethes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Do not Shake, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Pre-Relationship, Remus Hulks Out, Sirius Black is a Little Shit, Sirius Pushes Remus Too Far, Teenage Werewolves Are Volatile, are we surprised?, handle with care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29327157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krethes/pseuds/Krethes
Summary: Remus is at the end of his rope, between his friends ignoring him (Prefects give detentions, after all) and Sirius acting like he was the only teenager in the world to have a problem.OR: Sirius pushes Remus too far.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 37





	1. Snarl

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Graphic one-sided violence. Homophobic slur at the end. Bullying.
> 
> Remus makes me write in run-on sentences and I am the worst at fixing them.

Remus was at the end of his rope. Being a Prefect when your best mates were the most brilliant pranksters in school involved a lot of mental gymnastics to excuse their behavior.

They started their fifth year at Hogwarts off with a literal bang. The Sorting Ceremony had an unplanned-by-faculty-but-definitely-planned-by-Marauders fireworks display that lasted for five minutes and five seconds, consisted of five different colors, and played five different songs that had nothing to do with each other in chaotic, discordant combination.  It had been quite the spectacle and they had of course all received detention and Remus’s Prefect status hung in peril.

Not that it mattered to his friends, he'd noticed. Peter and James were of the opinion that  they just couldn’t  _ fully _ trust Perfect Prefect Prat Lupin not to rat them out or try and stop them. ‘Nothing personal, of course!’ they’d insisted adamantly. Remus fought them on their judgment for a while, deeply wounded and upset by the implication that he would  _ tell _ on them, but couldn’t change their minds. 

Sirius, well… Sirius was in a whole new mood of his own and had been since the start of term. Apparently, his summer at 12 Grimmauld Place had been nothing short of terrible.

At first, Remus felt sorry for him. His own summers dragged on forever but at least his father was a nice enough fellow, not like Sirius’s parents. He was still terrified of his son: the werewolf and was still haunted by his guilt, but they could interact amicably and coexist. But after nearly six weeks of putting up with it, he decided Sirius’s attitude was nothing short of ridiculous.  He oscillated wildly from being a surly sulking stormcloud to a frothing madman desperate to do anything  and everything to further upset his parents. As such, he was not inclined to help Remus convince their friends of his trustworthiness and spent most of his free time doing whatever it was maniacs did, Remus supposed.

One of those things, Remus had noticed, was the hanging around with Julius McCaul, whom everyone (correctly) assumed was gay. Remus wasn't entirely sure  _ why _ , but the idea of Sirius palling around with the effervescent 7th year really bothered him. He missed Sirius, and him choosing to spend his time doing god-knows-what with Copper-Curls-From-the-Heavens McCaul made his blood run hot even now (though it was the day of the full moon and Remus was quick to blame the wolf for this sudden possessiveness).

So Remus was isolated, for all intents and purposes. James, Sirius, and Peter were all perfectly decent to him during the rest of their interactions, but suddenly being cut out of the jokes and the plotting made Remus feel like an unwanted fourth wheel on a vehicle that ordinarily  _ had _ four wheels.

He threw himself into his Prefect duties and into his studies. Being a fifth-year meant taking O.W.L.-level coursework and while the scholar in Remus was utterly delighted, the teenage boy who still wanted time to do teenage boy stuff (whatever that even was, without his friends) lamented having yards and yards of homework due each week. 

It was a good distraction, though, and kept him busy. Now well into October, Remus hardly even had the energy to be angry with his friends and their bullshit excuses for leaving him out. He spent more time with his fellow Prefect Lily Evans, to the boiling outrage of James, and found her presence calming, a cool balm in comparison to the sandpaper feeling in his chest whenever he felt the silencing spell go up around James’s bed.

This week was a Mad Sirius week, evidently. The obnoxiously handsome boy had been sniping at everyone and everything around him without rhyme or reason.  Bickering between Remus and Sirius was commonplace and rampant , but Remus noticed Sirius and James wrestling with less-than-friendly intentions more frequently, and even Peter had raised his voice in defense against Sirius’s wanton cruelty. 

Just that morning, Remus had even gotten into an actual shouting row with his so-called friend, who had taken it upon himself to blare Thin Lizzy (his latest obsession because it screamed “Muggle Sympathizer” to him, thus “Potential for Being Disowned”) at top volume at five o'clock.

The noise seemed confined to their dormitory, which spared Sirius the wrath of McGonagall and the other Prefects, but he'd robbed Remus of literally the only sleep he’d been able to scrape together in the past four days. The week leading up to the full moon was always awful. His skin felt too tight, his joints ached in preparation and he was restless, often pacing for hours before he would exhaust himself into fitful sleep, if he was lucky. 

Despite having also been woken up by the miserable noise, James and Peter only gave minimal protests. James shrugged it off as needing to be up in a half-hour anyway for Quidditch practice and if James wasn't bothered by something, Peter very well couldn't be, now could he? Remus, on the other hand, sleep-deprived and on the cusp of transformation, was _livid_. 

He'd woken up with an actual growl, rage burning in his gut, to which Sirius had the ill humor to laugh at. "Time of the month, is it, Moony?" he'd belted over the heavy metal assaulting their ears. Remus barely heard him through the racket and the nausea building, the sheer volume disorienting him. But he saw the smirk on Sirius’s face, which told him all he needed to know. 

"You're a fucking asshole," Remus seethed and threw his pillows and his stash of library books at Sirius. The books missed. James and Peter looked shocked -- Remus didn’t normally swear. He typically found "less base" ways to express his feelings. Then again, Sirius didn’t normally use Remus’s Little Problem as a weapon.

Sirius didn't take the hint, or ignored it, and somehow managed to turn his record player up even louder. Remus felt his teeth rattling in his skull and wanted to lunge at him. "Really?" he bellowed over the din, right as Sirius magicked it suddenly silent.

The look on Sirius’s face was maddening. Innocent confusion sprawled, turning his pureblood features almost cherubic, and he raised his perfectly-shaped brows. "My, my, Moony, there's no need to  _ shout _ ."

Thank Merlin for James, who quickly intervened and dragged a cackling Sirius out of their dorm and into the Common Room. Remus wasn’t sure what transpired between them, but spent the rest of the morning with his hangings pulled shut, boiling in the enclosed space but too angry to do anything else. 

Breakfast had been an uncomfortable affair. Sirius had slunk off to sit, in Remus’s opinion, far-too-close-to-be-just-friends with McCaul, and the remaining three Marauders were so knackered they couldn’t even pretend to make conversation between themselves. Remus glowered at his toast as if  _ it _ was responsible for his problems until breakfast was over and now, sitting in History of Magic, his stomach was painfully empty.

To add insult to injury, during one of the long lulls between Binns’s sentences, his stomach rumbled audibly. Snickers scattered across the classroom and Remus wanted to hide under his desk. The noise apparently drew the attention of one Sirius Orion Black, who chucked a balled-up bit of parchment at Remus’s head from across the room (even Professor Binns knew to separate the Marauders during his lectures).

Remus jerked his head up to glare at Sirius, a ‘what the fuck?’ look clear across his face. He unballed the parchment and read, in Sirius’s unmistakable fine script, ‘My dearest Mister Moony. Hope this finds you well. You are a wanker. Yrs, S. Black.’ 

Incredulous, Remus shot Sirius a second ‘what the fuck?’ glare from over the heads of their classmates. Sirius, who looked altogether too smug for having accomplished nothing of significance, was already scrawling a second note. He pelted it at Remus’s head and had apparently charmed it because when Remus dodged, it bounced off the chair behind him and  _ thwapped _ him in the back of his head anyway.

A sickening anger was starting to rise from the pit of his stomach. What was Sirius’s problem? The full moon was tonight, he  _ knew _ that, and he was being, well, cruel, for lack of a better word. Sirius continued to look smug, and with pre-loaded annoyance, Remus unfurled the second note. ‘Dearest Moonpie, you smell. Yrs, Always-Fresh Sirius.’

Remus shot him a look that could melt steel, whispered a barrier charm around himself to prevent further interruptions, and focused his mounting angry energy on the lecture. Goblin Wars. It was always goblin wars. His normally practical handwriting became a scrawl that could rival James’s chicken scratch. He hoped he could unscramble his notes later.

The lecture ended after what seemed like hours, Remus unable to fully block out Sirius’s trying over and over again to send more notes his way. By the end of class, there were some dozen crumpled up bits of parchment around his feet. Refusing to acknowledge Sirius, because he was _obviously_ doing this for attention, Remus charmed them all into the garbage bin and stormed out of the room. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius smirking, wickedness in his eyes. 

“Remus! Are you okay?” It was Lily, at his elbow, concern written across her lovely face. She was nearly jogging to keep up with Remus’s long, purposeful stride, and he felt a pang of guilt, so he slowed. 

“He’s got some nerve,” he grumbled, trying to keep his cool. This was stupid. They were just notes. But a barrage of insults after that morning, after having not been spoken to for weeks, after having been ditched for Julius-Grecian-God-McCaul, was  _ unacceptable _ . “He and James and Peter have been right dicks ever since I became a Prefect,” he said hotly. 

Lily’s mouth took on a familiar self-righteous scowl and she crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “Well that’s not fair! You shouldn’t be punished for trying to  _ better _ yourself. Forget them, c’mon, we’ve got to get to Ancient Runes.” 

“D’you mind waiting for me, Lily? I just need a second.” Remus stepped into the boy’s bathroom just outside of the Ancient Runes classroom, feeling overly-hot and wanting desperately to cool off. After assuring it was empty (which wasn’t surprising because there were literally six students taking the class at OWL level), Remus leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. 

The notes were still getting to him, camped out in his brain like splinters under his fingernails. It was just so  _ pointless _ of a thing to waste his time doing. Remus couldn’t figure out Sirius’s angle. 

Muttering obscenities to himself, he splashed more water on his face and ran wet hands through his hair. When he expected a gentle trickle of one or two drops down the back of his neck, he was assaulted by an icy downpour that took his breath away. 

Gasping at the shock of it all, he wheeled around, fully expecting to see Snape or another Slytherin reveling in his misfortune. Instead, he saw one Sirius Black, not laughing, but standing with his arms akimbo, that same  _ stupid  _ smirk look on his face. Remus wanted to claw it off.

The growling in his head that was his constant companion grew louder, and demanded that he rip, tear, maul the flimsy human who dared to lay their hands on him. ‘It would be easy,’ it purred, ‘he’s just a human. Do it. Attack him.’ His hands twitched, muscles tensed, and he clenched his jaw so hard his molars creaked beneath the pressure. 

‘ _ No, calm down,’  _ he told himself firmly, fighting valiantly for control. 

Sirius seemed unphased by all of the huffing and puffing and began to twirl his wand between his fingers and over his knuckles in a show of nonchalant sleight-of-hand. 

Remus stalked towards him, punctuating each step with the growled words, “What. Is. Your.  _ Problem.  _ Black?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” came the sardonic response.

He nearly flew off the handle, the growling in his head now barking, frothing, furious. How  _ dare _ he mock them? Remus began to tremble with the effort of holding back. 

When he didn’t reply, Sirius prodded further. “You’re a wanker. You smell. And,” he paused to pull out the other dozen notes he’d written, apparently intent on reading them all to Remus. “Since you so  _ rudely _ threw them away,” Sirius started, sounding for all the world like McGonagall when one of them hadn’t turned in their homework on time. He cleared his throat. “You have been a right tosser lately, awfully moody.” He tossed that one down, shuffling another to the front. “You--”

Remus didn’t let him finish. He raked his sopping wet hair back and grabbed the front of Sirius’s robes with zero respect for their finery. He shoved Sirius against the marble of the bathroom wall with ease and an actual, audible snarl that ripped its way from the bottom of his spine and out his mouth like a rabid animal. He pinned Sirius there for several seconds, their faces inches apart.

The look on Sirius’s face was strange -- Remus couldn’t place it. His eyes had darkened and his mouth was parted slightly so that he could see the glisten of his own spit on his lips, and his face was delicately flushed pink. Had Remus been  _ actually _ in control, he might’ve been able to identify it and their afternoon might have gone quite differently, but the wolf had the reins and wasn’t keen on relinquishing them. 

Remus cocked his head back and slammed it into Sirius’s forehead with a sickening  _ crack _ , and his smirk, his weird look, slid from his face to be replaced by pain and growing concern. “Uh, Moony, I--” he started, only to have the words stricken from his mouth with a bony, full-moon-powered fist.

He smelled blood, sharp and seductive, and fear. His mind was a blur of adrenaline and anger and a hunger that gnawed. He punched him again, this time in the stomach. Sirius groaned and gasped for the air forcibly expelled from his diaphragm. Again, in his mouth, slick blood coating his knuckles. Remus released him so suddenly that Sirius slumped to the floor in a ball, but soon had his fists buried in those coveted, silky black curls. Ignoring Sirius’s pained protests, he lifted him by the roots of his hair and pushed him against the porcelain of the sink.

‘Bite him, bite him, bite him,’ was the seductive, ravenous cry in the back of his head. He yanked Sirius’s head back to reveal the elegant lines and pale, perfect flesh. The galloping of Sirius’s heartbeat spurred him on and he felt himself  _ salivating _ . He wondered what his blood would taste like…

The thought startled him.

Remus caught sight of himself in the mirror and froze. The amber-gold eyes that stared back at him were practically feral, and self-realization dawned with a nauseating calm. He saw Sirius, bleeding profusely from his nose (no longer perfect, he noticed with lingering satisfaction), his mouth split and his body bruised and swelling where bones were doubtlessly broken, and staggered to a toilet to vomit.

“Fuck.” He retched again. And again. Nothing came out. He’d not eaten breakfast, after all.

“Moo...ny…” Sirius was alive, at least. Thank Merlin. Or God. Or whomever.  _ ‘Not Remus,’ _ he thought guilty.

Fear and shame and horror at his actions froze him in the stall. He heard shuffling of uncoordinated feet and felt a presence behind him. 

“You uh… have a mean left hook.” 

Remus spun around to look at him, incredulous once again. Sirius looked like absolute trash, one of his eyes blackening rapidly and clutching his ribs like he was trying to hold them together. But he had a grin on his mouth, which really only made it bleed more, and Remus was stunned. 

“I’ve been a knob.” A statement. A fact.

“...” Remus couldn’t answer, still trying to grapple with what the wolf had done.  _ ‘What I’ve done,’ _ he corrected himself. He couldn’t blame the wolf -- it was daytime,  _ he _ had done this.

“A right prick,” Sirius continued. He ran his tongue over his teeth and spat out blood on the ground. 

“Yes, actually.” 

Silence stretched between them and Sirius slumped against the cubicle wall before sliding down it pathetically with a whimper. “M’sorry,” he whispered, flags of red on his high, bruised cheekbones. 

Remus crawled to where his friend huddled and carefully draped an arm around his battered shoulders. “Me too, Sirius.” It seemed a lame and hardly-appropriate reply for having thrashed his friend into a pulp but suddenly the tension between them was gone. 

“Are you snogging McCaul?” It came out before he had a chance to stop it, and Remus banged his skull against the wall behind them in self-frustration.  _ ‘Way to go…’ _

He felt Sirius’s face get warmer as he blushed. “Yeah, a bit. A bit more.” More silence, then, “Do you hate me now that I’m a poof?” 

Forgetting for a brief moment that he’d beaten the shit out of him, Remus cuffed his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “Of  _ course not _ . I could never hate you, Sirius.” 

Remus didn’t know how long they sat that way, Sirius’s head tucked under his chin, Remus’s white school shirt soaking up the blood freely flowing from Sirius’s nose and mouth, but he really didn’t  _ mind  _ it. He felt better than he had in weeks, like when an infection was finally purged from your body. It felt good to sit there with Sirius, listening to his heartbeat and his breathing. He felt his eyes growing heavy, and was finally drifting into sleep when the door banged open.

“Remus are you-- what the  _ fuck?!”  _ Oh right… Lily... 


	2. Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius’s side of the events.

Sirius Black was at the end of his rope. His summer had been spectacularly terrible. After his stunt at Christmas where he rode the Knight Bus to the Potter residence, he hadn’t actually been allowed  _ outside _ . They had torched every LP and poster his dearest cousin sent him. 

To top it off, Sirius had to attend his cousin Narcissa’s wedding to (and the memory now made him want to hurl) Lucius Malfoy. Lucius  _ looked _ like the poster child for dark wizards, in Sirius’s oh-so-humble opinion, and while he had no particular attachment for Narcissa (the whole lot of them were ridiculously mad), he didn’t like seeing Lucius looking so smug.

The conversation at the wedding took a horrifying turn when Sirius’s female relatives realized that ‘oh, isn’t young Sirius fifteen this year? Why Walburga, you really need to find him someone  _ suitable.’ _ Suitable. So, like maybe a second cousin or a first, if things were desperate enough. Sirius spent the rest of his summer entertaining offers from different pureblood families. If he had to look at one more too-similar-to-his-own-to-be-even-remotely-okay face, he would  _ really _ hurl.

He'd tried ditching the dates, but his father found him in within an hour each time and inflicted his own sense of punishment on his eldest son. Sirius's thighs still stung from the memory.

Walburga had made it painfully clear that she expected both of her sons to make respectable matches in marriage. They had a reputation to uphold, after all, and while ‘having two sons might be a blessing, only one of them seemed to be toeing the line’. Regulus, obviously. Sirius was the Great Shame. Had been since first year. 

In retaliation, because Sirius Orion Black III took nothing lying down, except for a lie-down, he’d started acting out. He dyed his bedsheets crimson and gold in the Muggle way, which took Kreacher ages to sort out. He added comically-placed eyebrows to every serpent emblem in their family home, and had tried to sneak out on no fewer than twenty-nine occasions in the span of two months. None were successful, but it kept his parents on their toes.

Coming back to Hogwarts had been high on his list of “Things to Make Me Happy”, but when he returned to see that one of Their Very Own had decided to become a Prefect, and it was Moony of all people, he’d been rather put out. He had enough to deal with as it was, nevermind Moony going off and “elevating himself”. 

All that in mind, Sirius was looking for trouble. He found it in the hands of Julius McCaul, a seventh year  _ muggleborn Hufflepuff boy _ . He made it clear to Julius that his involvement was strictly physical and was meant to get the ire of his parents (no need to string the boy along, he might catch feelings), and he’d quickly found himself absorbed by the wonders of snogging and holding onto something firm and strong, versus soft and pliable. If he was being honest with himself, it was a fair sight better than snogging girls, and Julius held up his end of the bargain by keeping things hot and heavy.

Sirius didn’t want to tell his friends outright, though-- James and Peter were purebloods and homosexuality of any opacity was taboo, even moreso than in the Muggle world. And Moony, well… He wasn’t really sure Moony even  _ liked _ him anymore, to be frank. He’d been avoiding the three of them and spending entirely too much time with Lily Evans (swot loyalty, he supposed, trumped Marauder loyalty) and any interactions he  _ did _ have with Remus seemed strained and inorganic. 

Without Moony there to keep him in check, (though Sirius didn’t know it was that specifically), Sirius was free to do whatever he wanted. He gave into the nastier side of him that just wanted to  _ fight _ , teenage rebellion and hormones winning the war over level-headedness with ease. Any small inconvenience was cause for an argument and it felt so  _ good _ , so exciting, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like it did when Julius did that  _ thing _ with his tongue… 

Sirius was having a good time, he convinced himself, even if no one else was.

October rolled around and the night before what would later be known as The Cockhead’s Crow Debacle (Peter was good at naming stuff like that), Julius had told him he’d started seeing someone his age more seriously, and their little escapades would have to stop. Sirius played it off like it was no big thing (it  _ wasn’t _ ), but he found himself mourning the loss of their “easy breezy” relationship. This was of course after they’d snogged for an hour, which Sirius told himself was because Julius just couldn’t resist one last mack on the Legendary Sirius Black. Not that he blamed him. 

When he returned to the Common Room, his hair wonderfully disheveled and the top four buttons of his shirt still undone, he slung himself over the back of a couch to sit next to Moony, with the intent to strike up some sort of heartfelt conversation. But the other boy had the  _ gall _ to scoff at him and leave, abandoning his homework (which Sirius then copied because, well, he’d been busy earlier, hadn’t he?) and trotting off to Merlin-knows-where. 

Sirius went to bed that night with his mind made up: he was going to  _ fight _ Moony. 

It was the perfect plan -- he’d finally make him see what a prat he was being, and the fight would obviously earn him a letter home to his parents and at least a month’s worth of detentions. His mother would be  _ mortified _ that their heir would subject himself to physical altercation and not a proper wizard’s duel. Sirius could tell Remus was about to bubble over anyway -- it’d be good for both of them, he reasoned wisely.

If there was anything Moony hated more than actually  _ being _ a werewolf, it was the toll the Day Of took on him. Sirius knew this and knew he’d have to make an early strike if he wanted to push him far enough to actually engage in a fight. So at five am, once he’d checked that Moony was  _ actually _ asleep and not just pretending to avoid talking to him, he crept to the record player he’d gotten from his cousin Andromeda and placed the Thin Lizzy "Fighting" LP on. He was practically giddy with anticipation and excitement and kept stealing glances over to Moony’s drawn curtains before he finally took the plunge. 

Full-volume “Fighting My Way Back” broke through the gentle snoring of his dorm mates. James’s and Peter’s reactions were expected and perfectly harmless, but Moony… Moony’s growl was nothing short of furious and it sent a not-unpleasant shiver down his spine.

He _ knew _ logically he shouldn’t poke the bear, but… audentis fortuna iuvat and all that. “Time of the month, is it Moony?" He’d yelled, and knew it was cruel, but it felt good in a deliciously stupid way. 

Moony swore at him and Sirius felt satisfaction twist in his gut, amazed that he’d gotten to him so quickly. Three pillows bounced off of his shoulder and he dodged the heavy textbooks lobbed at him from across the room with ease.  _ He _ was well-rested. Moony was not. Patented shit-eating grin in place, he cranked up the volume with a flick of his wand and watched as Moony’s kettle boiled over.  _ ‘Three, two… one!’ _ Music off right as Moony shouted. 

He raised his eyebrows and gave his best innocent facade, practically feeling the heat rolling off of his furious friend. “My, my, Moony, there’s no need to  _ shout _ .” 

He really thought this would do it -- Moony looked  _ so _ mad. Definitely a ‘Going to Die’ on his ‘Moony’s Gonna Kill Me’ scale, and Sirius braced himself for impact. He wondered what it would feel like -- he’d never really been  _ punched _ before. Hit by a bludger, sure. Hit by more jinxes that should be legal? Yeah. Struck by spells that no parent should  _ ever  _ use on their child? Abso-fuckin-lutely. But never punched. He needed to know.

But James, in his infinite goodness and ability to sense imminent danger (Sirius’s was defective), grabbed him by his shirt collar and dragged him from the room. He could only laugh wildly, knowing that he’d have to keep poking. When they landed in the Common Room, James wasn’t laughing. He actually looked  _ angrier _ than when he’d woken him up. 

“What the hell are you on about, Black?” James whisper-yelled, clearly not wanting to attract McGonagall’s attention at 5:04am. 

“Oh  _ come on _ , James, it was just a joke!” he defended and crossed his arms over his chest. “Harmless bit of fun.”

James rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It was pretty awful to y’know… bring  _ that _ up.” It was hard for James to scold him. Sirius knew that. Had bet on it. Only Moony actually called him out on his behavior. But the look on his face was clear -- he was upset about the werewolf jab, and thought Sirius should be as well.

_ ‘Damn,’ _ Sirius thought to himself, thinking fast. He’d have to get James off his trail -- he’d definitely intervene if he knew his Full and Totally Thought-Out Plan. “I suppose it was a  _ little _ too far. I’ll talk to him.”  _ Not _ ‘apologize to him’.  _ Not  _ ‘make it up to him’. But by the softening of James’s blue eyes and the relaxing of his shoulders, Sirius knew he’d interpreted his words as such. Perfect.

They split ways and went to breakfast in complete silence. Despite having recently been dumped, Sirius sat next to Julius with a blinding smile. He wanted Moony’s anger to build a little more. At this level, he’d probably just hex him and be done with it.  _ Boring _ . He needed time away to think about his next move. It couldn’t be something so cruel as calling out his lycanthropy, not in public anyway, so he weighed his options.

It was in History of Magic that brilliance came to Sirius. He’d been dozing off during the lecture when the unmistakable gurgle of a hungry stomach interrupted his daydream. Moony.  _ Perfect _ . A hungry Moony was probably the  _ most _ pissy, Sirius knew from experience. If the boy didn’t get his full 3 helpings of food at every meal, he was snippy and quick to annoy, which played right into Sirius’s hand.

He yanked parchment from his bag and slapped it onto his empty desk (note-taking was for serious subjects like Transfiguration), spent half a second contemplating, and then penned his note down. He chuckled to himself, congratulating himself on his genius, and sent the note soaring across the room with a casual flick of his wrist. ‘ _ Ten points to Gryffindor,’ _ he congratulated himself when the paper ball found its target: Moony’s head.

He watched amber eyes flick back and forth over the short note, taking in the words. Moony’s face was  _ priceless _ . Oh he was onto something here. Smothering giggles with the sheer force of ‘I’m-a-pureblood-heir-emotions-are-weapons’ will, he jotted down another note. This one, ‘Dearest Moonpie, you smell. Yrs, Always-Fresh Sirius.’

He knew Moony would dodge this one, so he enchanted it with a honing spell, ensuring that it would hit Moony’s head no matter what. The force of Remus’s next look made his heart skip a beat and he swallowed past a sudden trickle of ‘ _ seriously, my cock is shameless’ _ , which he assigned to having sat with Julius McCaul all breakfast and not having gotten anything out of it but frustration (because he of course didn't fancy  _ Moony). _

Sirius wrote more notes as quickly as he could. He knew it was only a matter of time before Moony put up a barrier charm and, sure enough, his next balled-up note, ‘Darling Lupinlove, you need to brush your teeth. XOXO, S. Black,’ bounced off an invisible wall and landed, unread, at his feet. Sirius was not deterred, and churned out twelve more before the end of class. Moony was  _ ignoring _ him, that was so rude, but he knew by the tense set of his shoulders that he was getting firmly under his skin.

He planned on continuing his assault in the hallway with a little bit of jinxing or shoving, but damn Evans had to get in the way. Scowling, Sirius slunk back and out of sight before Saint Evans decided to take pity on Moony and exorcise the demon known as Sirius Black for him.

He considered falling back and picking up his plan at a later time, at dinner maybe, but he was buzzing with nervous energy. He  _ needed _ this. It had to be now.

He knew Moony’s schedule better than his own (where even was he supposed to  _ be _ right now? Divination. Hah, fat chance.) and turned into the corridor just as he saw Moony tuck into the boy’s. ‘ _ Perfect’. _ Sirius waited a beat before following and watched as the other boy busied himself at the sink. 

He was swearing.  _ Good _ . Sirius knew just what to do. ‘ _ I’m brilliant,’ _ he mused to himself before whispering ever-so-softly, “ _ Aqua eructo. _ " An icy cold barrage of water arched from his wand tip to settle like the world's worst blanket on Moony’s head. It soaked him clean through, by his gasp, and Sirius smirked victoriously.

Moony was mad. No, furious, and Sirius couldn't help but pat himself on the back. This was it. He watched the other boy try to calm down and knew exactly what he was going to say. Moony always wanted to know  _ why _ Sirius did things, assumed there would be a logical answer behind his actions, which was rarely this case this year. 

Bored of waiting for the inevitable questioning, Sirius twirled his wand in his fingers and across his knuckles, trying to play it cool. Moony wouldn't engage if he knew he was being baited.

"What. Is. Your.  _ Problem _ . Black." 

Sirius only had one answer to give. "Isn't it obvious?"

_ 'Almost there…' _ Sirius had to hand it to him. Moony had heaps of self-control, evident even as Sirius watched him tremble with fury. He needed to push further. "You’re a wanker. You smell. And,” he fished the discarded notes from earlier from his robe pockets and held them up proudly, "since you so  _ rudely _ threw them away,” he added, using his best scolding voice. 

He cleared his throat. “You have been a right tosser lately, awfully moody.” He tossed that one down, shuffling another to the front. He was going to read all of these to Moony. “You--"

The next thing he knew, he was against the wall, held a little higher than Moony’s head by the front of his robes. The notes floated to the wet floor in a loose pile. The sound from Moony’s mouth echoed in the marble room and shook Sirius to his core. He'd flinched in spite of his conviction to riling Moony up but he opened his eyes to face his fate.

The boy's face was scrunched up in a snarl and his eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. They were hard, amber stones below a crumpled brow and Sirius  _ swore _ he saw something that wanted to eat him. There was no trace of his friend in those eyes and the sudden realization of what he'd done dawned on him.

Moony was a werewolf. Sirius knew this. Today was the full moon. Sirius knew this also. He'd planned on it. What he didn't plan for was the extreme strength and actual animal aggression that would inhabit his friend. He hadn’t bargained that the wolf would take over. There were four Marauders for a reason, which was to think Sirius’s Totally-Not-Planned-Out Ideas through. 

He could be in real danger. He  _ was _ in real danger.

Ridiculously, his cock twitched. ' _ Wow okay… that's unacceptable, _ ' he chided himself with a dollop of panic. A sudden image of Moony thrashing him in a different kind of way permeated his thoughts and he tried to banish it from his mind.

Suddenly a sickening pain bloomed on his skull and he knew that Moony, that  _ fucker _ had headbutted him. He saw stars, darkness enclosing on his vision as his head swam. ' _ Oh fuck me, _ ' Sirius thought dully. He had to talk his way out of this. Fast. 

"Uh, Moony, I--" Agony seared across his mouth, hot on the heels of a bony fist powered by sheer rage. He tasted blood, sharp, acrid, in his mouth and as he ran his tongue over his teeth, several felt loose. Sirius was filled with a sense of steadily mounting dread. He'd trapped himself in a room with a werewolf on  _ purpose _ . He'd done this to himself. 

He made to speak again, but before he could even open his busted mouth, the wind was knocked from him with another punch. He gasped and tried to fill his lungs but couldn't. Sirius tried not to give into the panic but he knew he was losing it. He was hit again in the mouth. Sirius heard a pathetic whimpering noise and knew at once it was him. He needed to get out of here.

He fell to the floor in a graceless heap and tried to curl into a ball, recalling some Care of Magical Creatures lesson on how to not die instantly if a hippogriff attacked you (hide your neck, soft belly, and groin), which seemed wildly appropriate here. Sirius tried to do a mental checklist of his injuries, but he was soon lifted by his hair (really Not Cool). 

His back screamed its agony when he was slammed against the sink. Rough hands jerked his head back and he felt cool air on his neck. His nose, bleeding freely, was starting to choke him with his blood and he felt the panic rise. 

This was not what he'd wanted to happen. He thought Moony would shove him, maybe punch him a few times, and that he'd get his own in, get to really rough up his knuckles. They'd wrestle  _ 'and maybe snog _ , _ '  _ had been an intrusive thought but Sirius assured himself that's only because it happened  _ one time _ with James in third year. But it wasn't supposed to be like  _ this _ . 

' _ I could die… _ ' he mused idly, somehow able to think through the solid pulse of pain in his body. As he finished the thought, he was dropped again and this time stayed down. He heard retching in one of the stalls. "Moo...ny…" he mumbled, stupidly concerned for his friend's well-being.

He laid there for a few minutes to assess. He wasn't dead or rapidly dying. He had all of his limbs. He hadn’t been bitten or scratched (but he didn’t know if that was an actual concern or not). He heard a sob and guilt struck him to his core.

What had he  _ done _ ? He'd set out to provoke his most vulnerable friend on his most vulnerable day and for what? To feel something other than misery and angst about his home life? Sirius didn’t often think about himself negatively, but at that moment he certainly was.  _ 'I'm a bastard. _ ' He'd caused Remus to actually lose control and cornered him into mauling him like a wild animal. Some friend. 

He knew he had to apologize, for all the good it would do. He staggered to his feet with the support of the sink, and shuffled to the stall. 

"You uh...have a mean left hook."  _ 'That's not an apology, _ ' he chided himself, feeling stupid and small and weak. He clutched his middle tightly. It hurt to inhale too hard. 

Moony turned to look at him and his heart broke. He looked  _ horrified _ . Sirius wanted to cry, and he was not a crier, seeing the pain on his face. Knowing he was the direct cause.

He tried again. "I've been a knob."

Silence. He deserved silence.

"A right prick." He spat bloody spittle on the ground and tried not to think about his loose molars. 

"Yes, actually." Like mana from the heavens, water to a dying man, Moony’s voice and acknowledgement sounded that good to his ears. 

Partly in relief but mostly as a result of not being able to stand, Sirius felt himself slump down the wall. Another sad noise. Him again.  _ 'Fuck, everything hurts. _ ' "M'sorry," he whispered finally, hearing his voice crack. 

Miraculously, Moony crawled to sit next to him and the arm slung over his shoulder was warm and heavy and comforting. He didn't deserve this, let alone the apology that came from Moony’s mouth. Impossible. He was impossible. He didn't deserve him.

"Are you snogging McCaul?" Was an unexpected question from Moony. What did he care? He'd never really taken an interest in Sirius’s love life before. Oh, because he was a bloke. Dread crept up on him like the blush that warmed his cheeks. Moony was gonna hate him now for sure. He steeled himself. "Yeah, a bit. A bit more." No need to regale him with news of their split. "Do you hate me now that I'm a poof?"

It was out there. And while Sirius didn't really think he was  _ one hundred percent _ gay, because girls really were great, there was no need to mince words. 

"Ow!" Sirius protested when he was  _ again _ assaulted, but this time with a gentle cuff on the shoulder. A friendly assault. Maybe…? 

"I could never hate you, Sirius."

It was said so softly, so genuine, it made his heart ache and his stomach lurch. It magnified the shame he felt tenfold. This wonderful person who'd trusted Sirius with all of his secrets and expected nothing in return. He'd been such an ass. 

Fighting back tears, Sirius tucked his head under Moony’s chin, relishing the warmth radiating off of his body as it served to distract from the pain. He knew he should go see Madame Pomfrey, but Moony was starting to fall asleep, was looking so tired and done in…

_ Bang _ .

The door flew open and Saint Evans herself stood there, wand at the ready, and swore when she saw them slumped together. ' _ We must look quite the pair, _ ' Sirius mused, him well-thrashed and Moony splattered with his blood.

They ended up settling the matter with McGonagall privately as to not raise suspicion about Remus, and Sirius couldn't even take satisfaction in getting the letter home or the month's worth of detentions that he'd sought out to get because Moony was so miserable.

Remus Lupin was his friend, and he'd used him like a pawn. It was dreadfully Black of him. Sirius didn’t like that side of himself, the ugly, malicious side. He promised himself that he would  _ never _ treat him that way again. His dear Moony forgave him, though how, Sirius couldn't imagine. The same could not be said for Lily Evans, but Sirius hoped James could smooth that over later. 


End file.
